


Slow Dance

by wheresthetime64



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Backstory, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, During Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Post-Canon, School Dances, Slow Dancing, Threesome - F/M/M, cameron pining like an entire fucking forest, college boys and girl, internalized polyphobia, not that i condone underage drinking of course, only at the end though, they kiss tenderly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheresthetime64/pseuds/wheresthetime64
Summary: Ferris and Sloane want to catch Cameron up on all the slow dancing he didn't get to do in high school, as he reminisces about his life with them, their relationship, and how he fell in love.
Relationships: Ferris Bueller/Cameron Frye/Sloane Peterson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Slow Dance

**Author's Note:**

> did someone order a giant plate of cameron frye character study?? im writing from cameron's perspective for my first fbdo fic because like everyone else i think his journey of self-acceptance and love, considering his background, personality, and love interests/best friends is super interesting and i love writing about it. this story came out of that and the fact i couldn't stop thinking of cameron slow dancing with sloane and ferris. here's a fun mix of fbdo themed angst and fluff. i hope you find something to enjoy in this! more to come of course  
> (also warning i used the q slur in a reclaimed context here)

“Hey, Cameron, what do you remember most about our last prom?” Ferris called from their kitchen, seemingly unprompted, as a lot of conversations with Ferris tended to start, Cameron well knew.

It was night now, and along with it came a gentle stillness about their apartment despite the traffic below their window and the stuttering of the TV. 

Cameron and Sloane were joined together at the massive dip in the middle of their couch he and Ferris had worked so hard to create, his arm on her shoulders, her hand idly rubbing his thigh, as she flicked through the channels like she could only stand television in ten-second bursts (Sloane did this once in a while, Cameron remembered her saying something about how it was sometimes more entertaining to her than settling on one show to watch. He never really minded it, it was kind of fun getting to see a bit of everything, although often he'd tease and say “Christ, Sloane, just settle for MTV like you always do”). 

Ferris was finishing up his dish-washing and drying duties for the day, and surprisingly enough without much of a fight, as long ago he’d agreed to take turns with Cameron but hadn’t agreed not to complain almost the whole way through when his day came around. Wasn’t that ever the Ferris way, never quite wanting to do any kind of work he hadn’t planned for himself. However, the lack of exasperated quips definitely suggested something was on his mind, and with Ferris that could mean anything. 

Apparently in this case, it meant high school nostalgia. 

Cameron pondered the question for a bit, before humming thoughtlessly and saying, “Probably the massive conga line you organized that went out into the neighborhood.”

That was pretty memorable, especially when some kid ran home and brought back his boombox to keep the party spirit up, and Rooney didn’t do a thing about it since he somehow became a part of the conga line in trying to break it up and couldn’t escape. Cameron smirked at the memory.

Ferris pointed at him with the towel and said, “Alright, yes, good point, but what else?” talking in a way that seemed to emphasize every word. Oh, so he had something planned.

Cameron leaned his head back, tapping erratically at his knee as he went, “Uhhhhh, hm,” trying to piece together the whirling, colorful images of that night in his head.  
“I remember you being crowned prom king, and then organizing the conga line.”

Ferris threw his arms up in the air with a quick roll of his eyes, as he almost whined, “Come on, Cam, something not about me.”

Cameron snorted, “That’s rich, the whole night was basically about you.”  
“Unofficially about me, but that's besides the point.” 

By then, Sloane had the TV turned off and was nestling her face easily into the crook of Cameron’s neck. She then told him, “He wants to know what was most on your mind that night, babe,” which made Cameron start to think she had a part in all this. And really, was that a surprise by now?

Ferris slapped the counter, “Exactly, that’s what I mean, thank you Sloane.”

“Mhm, don’t mention it,” she murmured into Cameron’s clavicle, and sensing her breath there made Cameron feel just a touch hazy. 

“So, Cameron,” Ferris had finally tossed the towel away somewhere and Cameron now saw him leaning on the kitchen table in his direction, eyebrow quirked up and one of those charming smiles of his starting to take place. “What WAS most on your mind during senior prom?”

He sighed, and for their sake, Cameron willed himself to think back to his place in the crowded auditorium: it was in a moment where most of his peers were dancing and mingling with endless energy in the shine of the multicolored lights, to the thumping of the overly upbeat tune. They were so lost in the spirit of the dance that they seemed to become almost shapeless to Cameron, wild and free and all around him. 

The only ones that were really tangible at all were Ferris and Sloane, just them and their smiling faces, flashing their teeth and laughing so, so much, that Cameron could never help but join in. 

If they weren’t there, Cameron wouldn’t even consider dancing; he’d feel the awkwardness and insecurity seep into him and would be drawn to one of the walls like some pitiful magnet to a fridge of despair, staring out into the happy crowd and wishing he could blend into the background, totally invisible. Almost like he was never there. He happened to have that fantasy a lot at parties.

But not around them. With them, he almost felt like he could be a part of the crowd. When they jumped and spun and jammed around each other, occasionally screaming lyrics and bursting into fits of howling laughter, just because they all looked so ridiculous and so happy, Cameron felt like he could be one of those wild, colorful, shapeless things. With them, he could. 

That’s how it always was, wasn’t it? Even though they could annoy the shit out of him sometimes with their boldness, more often than not they were like an eye at the center of a hurricane. Felt like he could actually BE something around Ferris and Sloane. Which is why he’d wished the loud partying music would never stop.

But it was a hopeless wish, of course it was, because the music slowed down and the air became sweeter, and couples were uneasily pairing together all around him, as humanly close as the chaperones would allow. And this meant Ferris and Sloane, turning away from him, turning toward each other, both of their pretty faces turning back for a second to give him that apologetic gaze. This meant something somber dropping lowly into Cameron’s stomach, the sweeping guilt and sadness that came with the reminder that he was in love, and he had no chance in hell at all. 

He would smile it off to keep them from worrying, grab another cup of punch, and trudge off to the bleachers, sitting down with a huff. He would try to look anywhere else, but his eyes, the traitors, could always pick out Sloane and Ferris in the sea of couples. He’d feel selfish and dirty when he stole glances at them, when he got any enjoyment out of the way they were looking at each other, the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it’d be like if either of them looked at him like that. Held him like they were holding each other. He’d felt trapped in his own desire.

Man, how far he’d come. How far all of them had come. 

Cameron unconsciously pulled Sloane closer to him, and smiled a bit at Ferris before admitting, “Well, I was seriously thinking about splitting before the slow dance.”

Ferris snapped his fingers before excitedly exclaiming, “That’s IT, Cameron, my love! Slow dancing! That is what tonight is all about.”

Cameron felt just as disoriented as he would if Ferris had ran up to him and shook his shoulders vigorously for no discernible reason. He felt a blush creeping up on his cheeks and laughed a bit nervously before asking Ferris, “Uh, what? Really?”

“Yeah really! Y’see, I was just thinking about it a couple of days ago, prom, and I happened to realize that you never really got to dance with anyone back then. So I got to talking with Sloane about it, obviously we both agreed you deserved that to happen to you, so we just thought, what the hell, let’s slow dance with you here!”

Sloane leaned nearer to Cameron and gave his shoulder a squeeze,  
“To make up for what happened, of course,” she said, and he turned toward her just in time to catch a glimpse of one of her brilliant grins. 

Cameron scoffed and looked between Sloane and Ferris. He was sort of used to them surprising him by now, but for this, well . . . could they really tell he was that distraught?

“To make up for it?” Cameron started. “I mean, guys, you know I don’t blame you, right? There’s no way you could’ve guessed I was in love with you back then. Shit, Ferris only accepted the fact he was bi, like, the day after we ditched, there was no chance of us happening at all. Not even in private.”

“Yeah, we know, Cam, but,” Sloane began, “Ferris and I got to have that moment, y’know, and it’s still not fair that you never did. So maybe it's nobody’s fault, at least nobody here, but someone has to make it up to you. Might as well be us, huh?” she smiled empathetically and punctuated her reassurance by cupping Cameron’s face, and he leaned into the contact like he always did, like some who’d been deprived of it most of his waking days. He chuckled at his own, sudden melancholy. Did he need a therapist or what.

“So, Cameron?” Ferris brought his attention back to him, and started walking toward the couch with a laughably cheesy kind of swagger. Ferris extended his hand and grinned,  
“Do you want to go to prom with us?”

He looked back to Sloane. She was offering her hand in much the same way.

It was one of the least ceremonious ways they had surprised him, but at the same time, honestly one of the most thoughtful. It’s not like they hadn’t slow danced before, they had been together like this for about a year and a half now, it had to happen some time. But the thing was, it sort of bothered him that they could never really be casually intimate in public. 

Cameron would have never admitted this to himself a couple of years ago, there was something about admitting to wanting what other people had that'd somewhat irked him. Maybe it was that he was constantly convincing himself he'd never really be able to have it, or that he didn't deserve it, or some twisted mix of those two. Wanting had really only hurt himself, so he'd always tried to curb it. Stay in your own lane Cameron, you're lucky that you have this much, was what constituted much of his train of thought back then. The exception to that was Sloane and Ferris, that was too powerful of a want to ignore, to his detriment. But now, with everything he had gone through, he wasn't as afraid of it anymore. It was natural, why shouldn't he be wanting what so many other fucking people on this planet were after? But it was the doing that he still feared, in this case. It was kind of impossible for them, being in a queer relationship and all. 

Well, actually they technically could. Ferris had offered to bring them to a club he’d heard about from a few of his gay and trans friends where he promised they could “be themselves”; but Cameron was still nervous about being semi-public with their relationship, for thousands of good reasons, so they would have to pass on that front for now. 

He did still find himself wanting it though, the PDA without the inherent fear that came along with it. He probably would have danced with them in the auditorium if they were born into a world that would allow it - that is, with some convincing on Sloane and Ferris’ part, as always. 

The closest thing they had gotten to intimacy at a party was Cameron twirling Sloane playfully at a college get-together they had snuck her into when she was in her senior year, and there was the one instance where someone, Ferris’ acquaintance or distant cousin or beer buddy or whatever, had said something about him and Ferris seeming like good friends, to which Ferris had replied, “Oh, we are, aren’t we, Cam? We share just about everything with each other, right?”

He had capped off the statement with a cheeky, knowing stare, and upon seeing it Cameron nearly choked on his drink (Afterward, Ferris promised to try harder not to joke about that or insinuate anything in public again, no matter how tempting the opportunity).

So, yeah, unfortunately he didn’t have much to hold onto in terms of PDA.

What they were offering him, he realized, was really the closest they could get to that kind of PDA-filled party moment that he pined for in his high school days, something he still pretty much longed for. He was grateful for it, for them, that they would set this up, consider his feelings about this. They didn’t even have to ask, how could he possibly say no? 

He still took their hands though, and turned to smile at them both.  
“It’s about time you asked, Bueller, Peterson.”

They softly chuckled at his sides, and Ferris moved to sit down on the couch with them. They both got an arm around Cameron and each kissed one of his cheeks, so in sync it was almost like they had coordinated it. Cameron returned the favor by pecking them each on their lips, Ferris first, then Sloane, it was a bit hard though seeing as he couldn’t stop smiling. When he pulled away from Sloane he immediately began to say, “Please tell me you made a-” 

Sloane was as usual already a step ahead of him, interrupting Cameron by smirking and whipping out a small cassette tape with a pink label decorated in bright red marker, hearts surrounding the title she had picked for it, Prom Night Mix.  
“I made a mixtape for this!” she exclaimed proudly.  
“Yessss!” went Cameron, just as enthusiastically, and he took the tape from her, wanting to have a closer look at her latest work.

Ever since her roommate taught her how to do it, making mixtapes had become something of a hobby...well, more like a passion, to Sloane. They had joked that “I made a mixtape for this” had almost become her new catchphrase; she’d made her own personal greatest hits for bands or singers she liked, tapes to set moods, tapes that ran on a theme, and tapes for all sorts of occasions. Cameron had a feeling this was more than enough of an excuse for Sloane to flex her extensive musical knowledge. Not that he minded of course, he always welcomed it, who the hell would he be not to? 

“May I do the honors?” he asked her, refusing to contain a shred of his joy in all this.  
“Of course! I did make it for you, you know. Go on!,” Sloane shoved his shoulder playfully and Cameron got up, still laughing as he put the tape in their boombox and stabbed the play button with his thumb.

As the synth started to sound and the soulful belting of a vaguely familiar singer rang through the apartment, Cameron felt a hand lay heavily on his shoulder and spin him around, Ferris of course, standing in front of him with his hand on his hip and Sloane leaning on his shoulder with her elbow. They were quite the picture.

“Well, who’s it gonna be first? It is Cameron’s Choice tonight, after all,” Ferris joked, that lop-sided grin still spread across his cheeks.

Cameron ruminated on this, rubbed his chin a bit and briefly paced in front of them for theatrics’ sake before clicking his tongue and saying, “Hrrmmm, think I’m gonna have to go with Sloane on this one.”

While Sloane perked up in response, Ferris scoffed and placed his hand on his chest as if he had suffered a serious emotional wound.

“Playing favorites in this relationship now, are we? Oh, I see how it is. You offend me, Cameron.”

“Hey, you asked, asshole! And it’s only fair, I knew I had a crush on Sloane before I did you, you know how it was. Since I fantasized about dancing with her first I just think she should go first.” Cameron told him matter-of-factly.

“All these years we've known each other and you didn’t fantasize about dancing with me before senior year? That’s twice you’ve offended me! Three strikes and I don’t know how we can go on being homoerotic roommates.”

“Pipe down, Fer, the man’s made his choice,” Sloane intervened, still staring at Cameron like she had been the whole time since he chose her. Sloane started drifting towards him after turning to bob her eyebrows at Ferris smugly, which of course made Ferris start laughing. 

“Ah, you know I jest, Cam.” Ferris said to Cameron as Sloane moved into his arms. Ferris rubbed his back affectionately, sending a small, warm shiver through him, before moving on into the kitchen. “I wouldn’t trade being homoerotic roommates with you for anything. Have fun you two, and as always, at least half a foot from each other’s torsos and no dirty talking in the auditorium.”

“Ugh, chaperones,” Sloane rolled her eyes in mock disgust in looking back up at Cameron, and he thought that’s when they were going to start swaying, until he saw Sloane light up suddenly and jerk her head towards Ferris again.  
“Hey, as long as you’re in there, you know what would make all this even better? If we had some punch.” 

“That is an excellent idea, Sloane dear,” Ferris instantly responded, already starting to root through their cabinets.

“You know, I don’t recall us ever buying fruit punch, um, like, at all? The hell are you looking for, Ferris?” Cameron asked him, watching in bewilderment.

“The next best thing. I’m sure we have some Kool Aid packets around here . . . Ah, here we go.”

“Or we could just break out the wine and make this an actually romantic night?” Cameron half-jokingly suggested, as Ferris took out a jug and started ripping open the packets ruthlessly, particles of whatever mysterious substance Kool Aid is made out of spilling all over the counter.

Sloane shook her head and gestured to the fruity mess of a drink Ferris was preparing, “But this is for the atmosphere, Cam! Can’t have prom without drinking some kind of shitty red juice.”

“Well, guess I can’t argue with that. Can we at LEAST dance now, though?”

At that, Sloane bowed her head and snickered into his shirt, clutching at his back.

She looked up at him. “We may.”


End file.
